Partition
by Vampiyaa
Summary: A crazed alien who claims to be the Doctor's biggest fan kidnaps the Doctor and one companion from each of his incarnations and pits them all against each other in a deadly game in an effort to prove who's 'worthiest'. And the Doctor's forced to watch it all.
1. Veneration

**Beta: Miral-Romanov**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Veneration

_Music._

It was faint, a crackling, gritty old sound that was barely audible over the painful ringing in his ears, and it vaguely registered in the Doctor's head that it was a Glen Miller song. He tried jerking his hand up to knock the needle off of the record, but he discovered his hands were bound to something long, smooth and decidedly armrest-like. The Doctor lifted his head, wincing at the pain in his neck from having it bowed for too long, and opened his eyes, blinking haze from his vision, and the confusion made him frown at his surroundings. He was in a darkened room so dimly lit that he could barely see— had it been a human in his position, the room would be completely pitch-black to them. The wavering old song seemed to be playing from an intercom or a speaker, since he couldn't see a phonograph or a record player, and the room was bare of anything save for a couple of dust balls in the corners. He gave his arm another fruitless tug, looking down and noticing his hands were bound with deadlock shackles to a silver, iron chair.

Concern filled him when he realised he couldn't remember being abducted; the last thing he remembered was being in the TARDIS with Clara. Clara was missing as well, so he could only assume that she'd been abducted as well and was somewhere else in the vicinity. Either that, or she'd been lucky and was still in the TARDIS, although at this point it would be foolish to hope for the latter.

"Hey," the Doctor said loudly, wincing when the sound reverberated through the empty room and made his head hurt. Pushing his own discomfort aside, he drew in a deep breath and shouted, "HEY! WHERE AM I?! WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN CLARA?!" There was no answer, at least not that he could hear over the ringing in his ear. He shook his head like a dog trying to dry off in an effort to get the ringing to stop, before continuing to shout. "WHO ARE YOU?! LET ME OUT OF HERE AT ONCE!"

Once again, nobody answered. Letting out an annoyed growl, the Doctor struggled with his shackles in an attempt to pry the screws loose. After a full ten minutes of fighting against his bindings he started to become horribly aware that these shackles seemed to be custom made for him. Which meant that whoever or _whatever _had abducted him hadn't done it by accident, so if he had any chance of escaping he'd have to be particularly creative. He tried to rock the chair in an effort to maybe push it over and knock open one of the shackles, but the chair wouldn't budge. He craned his neck over the armrest, only to curse loudly in chiming Gallifreyan when he realised his abductor had also bolted the chair to the floor.

Lovely.

The Doctor twisted his body around and wriggled in his seat, trying to feel if his sonic was still in his pocket, but his abductor seemed to have thought of that as well, since he couldn't feel _anything _in his pockets. Granted, they were bigger on the inside like most things he owned, but he'd still had a fair amount of emergency items in his pockets that could have been useful in his escape. He cursed again, taking another look around the room to see if he could spot any doors or anything that could help him. As he'd noticed earlier, the room was completely bare, but there was a steel door to his left that was also deadlocked.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE AT ONCE!" he shouted again, thrashing in his chair and glaring at the walls as if they could see him.

A faint hissing sound started up in the room, making him whip his head around and stupidly expect to see a snake slithering towards him. He couldn't see anything at all, which greatly worried him, so he opened his mouth to yell some more. Yet when he took another deep breath, his chest seared with pain, his joints seized up and a bitter scent like powdered medicine clogged his nose. His eyes went wide as he struggled to breathe, but whenever he managed to draw in breath the pain seemed to only get worse. His respiratory bypass did absolutely nothing to aid him, almost as though it were nonexistent, and just as his throat closed and he was surely about to pass out, he felt fingers press against his lips and something shoved down his throat. As it passed over his tongue, his fogged and near unconscious mind vaguely registered that it was _chocolate _of all things before his swallowing reflex kicked in. The pain in his chest and the asphyxia waned away at once, making him gasp for breath.

"Well _that _was eventful!" said a cheery voice right in front of his face.

Panting heavily, he blinked the tears from his eyes and, upon discovering that the dim lights had brightened considerably, took in the grinning man in front of him. The Doctor recognised him as an Ophelia Omicronian, with pale white skin and equally white hair that reached his shoulders. He was slender and wearing a spiked breastplate from the early Omicronian era, and his eyes were an almost disturbing, coal-black colour that clashed horribly with his babyish, rounded cheeks and crazily delighted expression.

"What—" The Doctor gasped for another breath, coughing for a brief moment. "What the hell was that?!"

"Aerosolised aspirin!" the Omicronian beamed, clapping his hands and bouncing a little as though the very thought was as wonderful as the thought of Christmas. "Isn't it brilliant?"

Aerosolised aspirin. That explained why his respiratory bypass failed at once, and why chocolate had stopped his symptoms, although it was far from _brilliant._ "Who are you?" the Doctor demanded, glaring at him and giving his shackles a rattle. "Where have you taken Clara and why am I here?"

"Well, which question do you wish to be answered first?" he said lightly, must to the Doctor's astonishment and annoyance.

"ANY OF THEM!" the Doctor shouted, trying to pitch himself forward in the chair.

"Well then," the alien said, looking falsely affronted. Placing a dramatic hand on his breastplate, he said with air, "My name is Beratt." The name made a light go off in the back of the Doctor's mind, and Beratt seemed to notice and giggled happily. "Ooh, so you remember me?"

"Not really," the Doctor said, scowling at him.

"Oh," said Beratt, looking a bit put out. "Well, we _have _met before, you know. It was a long time ago for me— although I'm sure it's been _ages _for you. _You,_ my friend, stopped me from planting an explosive charge in my planet's core and blowing it up." Memories flooded the forefront of his mind, from his seventh incarnation, and he gaped at the Omicronian, whose expression lit up again. "You remember now! Lovely, lovely…" With an exaggerated pointing motion, he said happily, "You were the _only person _smart enough to stop me, besides realising there was anything going on in the first place! All the other idiots on my godforsaken planet didn't even know I _existed_, let alone know I was planning to blow it up."

"Yes, yes, so what?" the Doctor said impatiently, rattling his shackles yet again. "What does all that having to do with you kidnapping me? Is this out of revenge?"

"Revenge, my dear Doctor?" Beratt laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "No, no, no, not at all! I don't want _revenge_— the resulting war that was caused after my plot was foiled was revenge enough." The Doctor gaped at him, wondering if he'd really caused the worst and only war on Ophelia Omicron by stopping Beratt, but the unstable alien continued, "You see, the Persei Government exiled me from the planet in the year 799/X, about three years before the start of the war, and I devoted the last sixteen years to learning absolutely _everything_ I could about you, Doctor."

"Why?" the Doctor said in astonishment, looking Beratt up and down.

"Because I'm your biggest fan, of course!" Beratt said with glee, spreading out his arms as though expecting a standing ovation.

"My biggest fan," repeated the Doctor with irritation.

"Yep!"

"Honestly?"

"Yes," said Beratt with a brilliant grin.

"Are you _insane_?"

"Completely!" Beratt beamed. "Why?"

"You kidnapped me because you're my _biggest fan_?!" the Doctor snarled with fury. If looks could kill, Beratt would already been ashes in a jar, but he simply kept grinning. "What the hell do you expect us to do— have a bloody sleepover? Or is this a date? Is that why you've chosen Glen bloody Miller to play in the background— are you setting the mood?"

Beratt actually laughed, and the Doctor was uncertain if he'd heard the sarcasm or not. "Don't be silly! We're going to play a game, of course."

"A game," echoed the Doctor, slumping in his seat and scowling. "Lovely. What are we playing, Cluedo?"

"No," chuckled Beratt. "_We _aren't playing anything— your friends are!"

"My friends?"

"Yep!" He pulled out a shiny black remote and wiggled it slightly between his long fingers. "I've gathered some friends of yours to play a game I've cobbled together. Bit proud of it, actually," he added, looking pleased. "And the outcome can only end in something you'd undoubtedly like— a reunion with one of your friends!"

"What are you _talking_ about?!"

"Your friends, Doctor, your friends!" Beratt said impatiently. "I know you're probably a thousand years old or something and have had hundreds of friends, but you must remember _some_."

Sending the confused Doctor a stern look, Beratt pressed the button on the remote. A whirring, electronic sound echoed through the large room and a gigantic monitor lowered out of the ceiling and positioned itself less than a metre from the Doctor's visage, almost too close for comfort. The screen was black up until Beratt sent him yet another gleeful expression and pressed another button on the remote. This time the screen lit up at once with several different images from multiple video cameras— eleven of the images were that of empty, identical corridors, but the biggest one in the very centre was clearly footage of a room full of eleven different people, all unconscious and all lying spread-eagled on the floor as though they'd been tossed into the room with indifference.

"What is this?" the Doctor snapped, with a sideways glare in Beratt's direction.

"I told you—" began Beratt with exasperation.

"Yes, yes, they're my _friends_," the Doctor interrupted with annoyance.

"Look closely," Beratt insisted, unconcerned with his interruption and rudeness. "Don't you recognise any of them?"

The Doctor glared one final time at him before obediently leaning forward in his seat and scanning through the throng of unconscious people. Most of them were lying on their stomachs, facedown and unrecognisable, but his hearts dropped into his stomach when he managed to distinguish Clara lying crookedly in the corner from the outfit she'd been wearing the last time he'd seen her. And, he realised with utter horror, the two people closest to her were none other than his old companions Peri Brown and Jamie McCrimmon.

"So you do recognise them!" Beratt said with delight. "Wonderful!"

"What is this?!" the Doctor snarled, rounding on Beratt with a mixture of anger and horror in his expression. "You've kidnapped them?!"

"Yep!"

"You took them from their _timelines_?!" the Doctor gaped, unable to believe that anybody could be so stupid and insane. "What the _hell _have you done?!"

"Well, my dear Doctor, it's really very simple!" Beratt beamed. "I've personally handpicked one companion from each and every one of your past incarnations. And I've brought them here to compete against each other and see who's worthiest of being your companion."

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><p><strong>AN: This is my first multi-chapter fic written outside of a series :) It is being written in honour of my utterly favourite companion, Rose Tyler, winning the RadioTimes Contest for Best Companion Ever (that, and it was just WONDERFUL to be there when she kicked River Song's butt :3 best day ever) except in this case it's just a few choice companions going up against one another instead of all of them. And before anybody asks, River will NOT be featured in this fic, despite her being one of the runners-up in the actual contest. This fic will feature a lot of violence and horror, so if it's not your cuppa read no further. Unfortunately the chapters for this are going to be very short; you'll see why later on. Hope you enjoy!  
><strong>


	2. Introduction

**Beta: Miral-Romanov**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

Introduction

The Doctor wasn't certain how much time had passed while he was in an astonished stupor; all he knew was that the second the fuzz cleared from his head and he snapped out of it, his rage returned like a landslide of suffocating dirt and tumbling boulders and he started shouting again, wishing very much that his hands were free so he could throttle the utterly stupid, completely _insane _alien grinning before him.

"YOU FUCKING _IDIOT_!" the Doctor screeched, his voice clashing horribly with the Glen Miller song still crooning in the background. He struggled with all his might against his bindings, so hard the shackles tore open the skin of his wrists. "HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID?!"

Beratt looked completely unashamed and unconcerned at the Doctor's rage. "This was all done for you, you know."

"I DON'T CARE!" he yelled, spit flying from his mouth. "TAKE THEM BACK TO THEIR ORIGINAL TIMELINES AT ONCE!"

"I'll do no such thing," said Beratt with air, looking dramatically shocked that the Doctor could ever ask him to do that.

The Doctor hissed out through gritted teeth, "You _will,_ by bloody Rassilon, or so help me I'm going to tear you to pieces and feed you to the Andosian Ho'tha!"

"But if you do _that_," Beratt said gaily, "you'll never get to see who I've chosen!"

"I don't care!"

"Of course you do!" Beratt gave the Doctor a stern look. "Don't you lie now."

"You crazy fuck," spat the Doctor.

"Oh, just admit it," said Beratt. "You _are _curious to see who, out of all of your friends, I've chosen to play this game! You have to be— it's in all of our natures to be curious." Ignoring the Doctor's smouldering expression, Beratt pointed to the image of the room of unconscious people on the screen. "Now, who here did you recognise?" The Doctor stayed completely silent, continuing to glare at the alien, who sighed with exasperation. "You're going to learn one way or another who's in that room, Doctor. May as well answer the question and get all of this done quicker."

"Fine," the Doctor snapped. "You've tossed Clara, Peri and Jamie in there."

"Well, 'tossed' isn't really an accurate word to describe it, but very well," Beratt shrugged. He clicked the remote once and the multiple video camera footages disappeared, replaced with numerous tabs in the background of what the Doctor assumed were companion profiles. Peri, Jamie and Clara's profiles were all in the forefront, accompanied with a picture undoubtedly taken from a distance, like Beratt was some sort of insane stalker. The Doctor wouldn't put it past him. "You already know where I got that Oswald girl from, since you were there," said Beratt, "so we'll start with Mr. James McCrimmon. You met him in 1746 in your first body, although I took him when he was travelling with your second incarnation so he counts as number two. Miss Peri Brown, meanwhile, I took from your sixth even though she _also _met you in the previous incarnation. Still listening?"

"Intently," scowled the Doctor.

"Good, good," Beratt said vaguely, clicking the button again so that other people's profiles flickered over the screen as he narrated. "Besides those three, we also have Tegan Jovanka, whom I took about a month after she left you — I do apologise for that, I bet it hurt a lot — and Ace McShane. She didn't go quietly, I'll tell you that much." The Doctor felt sick to his stomach, seeing his old companions paraded around like test subjects on the monitor. "Then we have dear Sarah Jane Smith— took her when you abandoned her in Aberdeen. For shame, Doctor, she was very devoted. And we also have Grace Holloway, whom I took from the hospital a year after she told you she wouldn't travel with you — I apologise for that as well — and Liz Shaw. She's a horribly sharp woman, don't know how you dealt with it."

"Are you done?" the Doctor snapped.

"Not at all!" said Beratt cheerfully, clicking the remote again. "I've also taken your granddaughter Susan!"

"_WHAT_?!" he screamed, both from rage and from horror. "_YOU TOOK MY GRANDDAUGHTER_?!"

"I just said that," said Beratt vaguely, waving a dismissive hand. "I've also taken Martha Jones— remember her?"

"PUT THEM BACK AT ONCE!"

"But you haven't even heard the best part!" he said in earnest, trembling a little with excitement.

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE— SEND THEM BACK!"

"I'll do no such thing," Beratt repeated with the same amount of astonishment as earlier. "Besides, you haven't even heard the best part! No, no, don't go shouting again," he said quickly, when the Doctor looked ready to do just that. "I _guarantee _you'll like her!" With a gleeful little squeal and a silly bounce backward, he clicked the button so that the final profile lit up the screen, swept his arm out and shouted with delight, "_Rose Tyler_!"

His limbs seized up, ice flooded his insides and a horrible, painful mixture of hope and shock seared through his chest, a pain he'd only ever once felt back when Donna Noble had returned from an alternate reality and whispered the message into his ear on that godforsaken Chinese street. Her picture, in all of its pink-and-yellow glory, flooded the screen, and his hearts sped up to a gallop looking at it. There were creases and lines in her face that hadn't been there when he'd last seen her on that damnable beach in the other universe — they were unnoticeable to human eyes, but not to him, so it'd only been between five and ten years for her — and her hair was considerably longer, now falling down to her mid-back. She was also posed as the others had been, like they were unaware someone was taking their photo, except she had a concerned frown on her mouth that did not fit the smiling, brilliant Rose Tyler he'd known. Her two fingers were pressed to a communications device on her left ear and she was clearly in mid-sentence.

"No," he breathed, flinching when his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"Yes!" Beratt said with excitement, severely misreading the Doctor's intended message.

"_No_," the Doctor repeated, his sliver of hope bleeding away like water through a cup full of holes, and his fury returning full force. "You can't possibly have taken her— she's in a parallel universe and the walls are sealed."

"But I did take her!" Beratt insisted, looking put out. He pointed insistently at the picture. "Look, look at the photo!"

"How _dare _you fake a photo of her?" the Doctor snarled, not listening. "_How dare you_?!"

"It isn't fabricated!" he gaped, now truly insulted. "I'll have you know I went all the way through the Howling to get her!"

"SHUT UP!" the Doctor yelled.

Beratt stuck out his jaw in a childish scowl, remarking with bitterness, "Thought you'd be happy to see her again."

"It isn't her," he snapped stubbornly.

"It is!" Beratt insisted. "I promise! I found her in a parallel universe where there were zeppelins in the sky and all the telephone boxes were mauve — not dangerous though — and she was all by herself!" He giggled. "Ooh, you won't _believe _where I found her!"

"It-it's not her," the Doctor said, although doubt was creeping into his tone. What if it _was _her? Beratt described Pete's World in great detail, and where else could he have gotten that type of information? "It _can't _be her."

"I know it's hard to believe, my dear Doctor," said Beratt knowingly, giving the Doctor's shoulder a pat. "After all, you've probably spent the last hundred-something years trying to get over her, haven't you?" The Doctor clenched his teeth, deeply wishing his hands weren't bound so he could smash in a couple of Beratt's facial bones. Who the _hell _did this arsehole think he was? "Don't blame you, myself," he continued, oblivious to the Doctor's growing annoyance. "Although I don't exactly approve of using River Song to do it. Of all the women in the universe, you choose the most _bothersome _person in the history of _ever— _that's why I chose Miss Oswald instead of her. Far less annoying." The Doctor glared, but Beratt kept going. "Now, Rose Tyler, _she's _definitely something to fight over. Brilliant woman, her— at least, from what I've seen of her. I truly can't wait to see how she fares in the games. As a matter of fact—"

Just as the Doctor was about to shout Beratt into silence, a gentle beeping started up on the side of the monitor. Beratt paused mid-sentence, though he didn't seem particularly disgruntled about being interrupted, for an almost disturbingly delighted grin cracked over his pale mouth again. "What?" the Doctor demanded.

"The sedative I injected them with is wearing off," said Beratt with glee, bouncing in place. "Now we can start! And," he added, with an almost pitying look in the Doctor's direction, "you'll see that I wasn't lying about obtaining Rose Tyler from the Howling."

With another silly bounce and a quick circle around the Doctor's chair, Beratt placed himself right next to the Doctor's face and clicked the remote again, switching the screen back to the original picture.

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><p>Consciousness returned to her slowly and sweetly, floating back to her like a gently moving cloud. The gentleness evaporated in seconds when her mind caught up with reality— her entire body felt like it'd been beaten on for days with an iron pipe, there was a throbbing pain behind her right eye and all her joints felt seized up and frozen. A strangled whimper gurgled out of her throat and she tried to sit up, but her limbs wouldn't cooperate and her efforts only made pain shoot through her body again. She vaguely registered hushed, panicked voices in the background, echoing oddly in whatever room she was in, and she opened her mouth to call out to them. The only noise she made was a strange gurgling sound, but it caught somebody's attention nonetheless, since an ice-cold, slender hand slipped over her shoulder and a suspiciously familiar voice spoke next to her ear.<p>

"Rose?"

Rose whimpered in response, flinching away from the cold hand and wincing when the movement made more pain erupt through her limbs.

"Rose, it's me, Martha," said the voice again.

Rose frowned, trying to force her eyes open and succeeding only slightly, enough to see Martha Jones' concerned face looming over her, blurred but nonetheless there. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and opened them again, trying to clear her vision. "M-Martha?"

Martha nodded, slipping her hand underneath Rose's back and saying kindly, "Here," before gently helping her sit up. "How are you feeling?"

"Feel like I've been run over by a lorry, honestly." Rose's limbs still hurt like hell, so she leaned heavily against Martha's shoulder. Coughing slightly and wincing yet again when the action made her already scratchy throat feel raw and burned, Rose wheezed out, "How are you _here_?"

"I think the better question is, how are _any _of us here?" Martha said darkly.

Rose's frown deepened and she blinked a couple more times, taking in the room. It was like a cellar, cold and box-like but with steel grey walls instead of cement. There were nine other people in the room, seven of which were properly awake and hugging themselves for warmth and comfort, looking wary; two of which were leaning against looking as conscious as Rose felt.

"Where the hell are we?" she asked vaguely, shaking her head to try and clear it.

Before Martha could answer, a slight crackling noise sounded through the room before a cool but utterly pleased voice sounded through an intercom in the top corner of the room, his voice punctuated by the old-sounding music in the background. "Wake up, everyone!" a man trilled happily, making everybody jump. "My name is Beratt, lovely to meet you all. Well, I say meet, but only one of you will actually see me when this is all over." Rose blinked dazedly, wondering if she was hallucinating this. "You'll be feeling groggy for a few more minutes but that should clear up soon. Might be a bit worse for you, _Rose Tyler—_" the man called Beratt added an unusual amount of emphasis on her name, "— since I took you from across the Howling." Through the haze of her mind, Rose's stomach flooded with shock and she opened her mouth to respond, but Beratt continued, sounding even more delighted than he had earlier, if that were possible. "Now you're probably all wondering why you're here." Someone in the corner snorted, but Rose didn't see whom. "Well, the answer is that I've handpicked each and every one of you, from all of the Doctor's companions." Rose snapped her head up at the mention of the Doctor, but Beratt kept talking, getting more and more excited. "You've all got ten minutes to gain a bit of strength back."

"Before what?" said the voice that had snorted earlier, a young girl with an anger-hardened face and what looked like an old bomber jacket.

"Before the games begin."

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><p><strong>AN: I know I said I'd never bash River in any of my fics, but technically it isn't my opinion; it's Beratt's :p I just happen to agree with him. ANYWAY, thank you-s are in order for all those who reviewed the last chap- alias093001, Kathryn Hart, TheBigCat, Hediru, InfinitiesLover, Porrima, BrightWatcher, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, Miral-Romanov, DeepBlue-sama, a Guest and an EpicGuest :) I'm amazed at the turnout; I'm so glad you guys are enjoying already!  
><strong>

**This chap is for my mom, who's in the hospital post-major heart surgery. Love you Mom, get better soon~!**


	3. Inception

**Beta: Miral-Romanov**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

Inception

Everyone else in the room seemed struck dumb by Beratt's announcement, but the pudgy-faced girl in the bomber jacket was the only one who seemed nothing but enraged. Taking a deep breath, she screeched with righteous fury, "OI, YOU! GET YOUR BLOODY ALIEN ARSE DOWN HERE SO I CAN BLOW IT ALL THE WAY TO DARJEELING!"

Her screaming seared through Rose's ears, the pain in her head doubling like her brain was on fire. Slamming one hand on her ear, Rose hissed, "Will you _shut the hell up_?!"

"_I'm _trying to get us out here," the girl snarled. "What're you doin', Blondie?"

"All right, that's enough," snapped a sharp-looking woman in a scientist's lab coat. "We'll not solve anything by nattering at each other."

"D'you have a better idea?"

"Actually yes," said a Scottish brogue coming from the only male in the room. He was wearing a kilt, of all things, and his eyes were bright and boring holes into the girl. "We could try keepin' our voices down an' figurin' out a way outta here."

"There don't seem to be any doors," piped up another petite girl in the corner, a sweet-faced girl with a pixie haircut and a loose-fitting woollen jumper.

"Well, we have to have gotten in here somehow," said yet another woman next to the man in the kilt, in a thick Australian accent.

"All right, before we start looking for imaginary exits," Rose said, massaging her throbbing temple with her two fingers, "let's try and figure out who everyone is."

"And how exactly is that gonna get us out of here?" the pudgy girl scoffed.

"If we can figure out who we all are, maybe we can figure out why we're here and who took us, and then maybe we can make a plan to get out of here," said Rose, trying to keep her voice patient and her face expressionless even in the direction of the girl's look of utter contempt. "All right— we know the bloke's name is Beratt and that he took us 'cos we're all affiliated with—" She paused, looking troubled, "— the Doctor. Does the name 'Beratt' sound familiar to anyone?" Everybody in the room shook their heads, and Rose frowned. "Doesn't sound familiar to me either, and he _clearly _knew who I was— he called the Void 'the Howling'."

"How do we know you're not working with him?" the girl demanded.

This time Rose couldn't help but send her a patronising look. "'Cos I'm in here with you, remember? Now will you tell us your bloody name, please?"

The girl glared at her, slumping back against the wall and said abruptly, "Ace."

Rose huffed out a sigh. "Nice ta meet you, Ace. Got a last name to go with that? Or a _real _first name, maybe?"

"Dorothy McShane, then," she snapped. "Called me anything but Ace and it'll be _your _arse I'll blow straight to Darjeeling."

"Mm," replied Rose, exchanging exasperated looks with Martha. "All right then, where were you when you were taken?"

"Just came back from Perivale with the Professor—" Ace ignored all of their confused looks, "— when Captain Nutjob grabbed me. Don't remember anything after that 'cept waking up here."

Rose nodded. "'Kay, who's next?"

The man in the kilt raised his hand. "Jamie McCrimmon. Was back in the Highlands when I was accosted by… er, Captain Nutjob," he added, with a sideways glance at a petulant Ace.

"I'm Liz Shaw," said the sharp woman. "I was in my lab when I too was accosted."

"I-I'm Grace Holloway," stammered a brunette in the background who, up until now, hadn't said a word. Her accent was American, and Rose felt a brief stab of old bitterness when she wondered just how diverse the Doctor's list of companions was. "I-I was on my way home from work."

"Er, I'm Peri," said a second brunette, who was also American. "Peri Brown."

"What's the last thing you remember?" said Rose kindly.

"The Doctor dropped me off for a visit back home in California. I just remember blacking out after that."

"Same with me," piped up the Australian girl. "I was finally at my job at the airline when I blacked out."

"An' you are?"

"Tegan," the girl answered. "Tegan Jovanka."

"I'm Clara Oswald," waved a baby-faced girl behind Tegan. "I was in the TARDIS with the Doctor, I think."

At Rose's nudge, Martha jumped and added, "Oh, um, I'm Martha Jones. I was—" She blushed and glanced at Rose, before saying in a rushed tone, "Iwasathomewithmyhusband."

Despite the situation, Rose grinned, nudging Martha's side in lieu of a hug, since she still wasn't certain if she could lift her arms. "Go Martha!"

Martha went beet red, pressing her lips together since this really wasn't the time or place to announce that she was married to Rose's ex and best friend. Meanwhile, yet another brunette girl who hadn't spoken thus far added, "I'm, er, Sarah Jane Smith."

Rose's grin dropped off her face at once, whirling her already pounding head around so quickly she actually winced at the pain she caused herself. She and Martha both gaped at the very young version of the headstrong woman they both knew well, who was fidgeting nervously at all the attention she was getting. "Oh, look at you, Sarah Jane," Rose breathed, wide-eyed and smiling nostalgically.

"You know me?" Sarah Jane said tentatively.

"It's… a bit in the future for you," Martha said, as she beamed at the woman.

"An', erm, where were you when you were taken?" Rose added, trying to school her face back into earnestness and failing.

"The Doctor had to go to Gallifrey, so he dropped me off since humans aren't allowed," Sarah Jane said, her voice taking on an irritated tone as she added, "Dropped me in Aberdeen instead of South Croydon."

Rose's smile vanished like smoke a second time in the same minute, frowning at the floor. "So you _just_ left the Doctor?" Before Sarah Jane could elaborate, Rose continued, "Then that means all of this is one big bloody paradox."

"Apparently Veratt doesn't care about the laws of time travel," said the pixie girl.

"Beratt," Rose corrected idly, looking up from the floor to stare at the person who'd spoken. "An' you are?"

"I'm the Doctor's granddaughter."

Everybody's jaws dropped to the floor, the room practically radiating astonishment as they all stared at her to the point of obvious discomfort. Martha turned to Rose, only to see that she wasn't mirroring everyone else's expression. Hers was her own brand of shock mixed with an expression that was almost apathetic, up until she said in an almost despondent voice, "You're Susan."

She blinked at Rose. "Yes. You know who I am?"

"Yeah, the…" she paused yet again, "the er, Doctor… told me. A-about you."

"Who are _you_, then?" demanded Ace, crossing her arms and looking Rose over suspiciously.

"You already know my name— the bloke said it on the comm.," Rose frowned.

"Yeah, but who are you to the Professor?" Ace said, once again making everyone in the room frown with confusion. "'Cos apparently none of us knew about Tinkerbell over there—" Susan looked stunned and everyone else shot Ace a glare that she ignored, "— so why'd he tell you? What makes you so special?"

Rose's face blanched of all colour, and as much as Martha wanted to rescue her and make up some excuse so she wouldn't have to answer, Martha was also curious as to why Rose looked like she'd just seen a ghost. "I—" Rose started, before her voice cracked. She swallowed before saying, awkwardness thick in her voice, "I was… sort of his wife."

There had been considerable surprise when Susan introduced herself as the Doctor's granddaughter, but it was nothing in comparison to the pure astonishment sent in Rose's direction by everyone in the room except Martha— even Susan was looking shocked, though her mouth wasn't gaping obnoxiously like everyone else's was.

"You're his _wife_?!" Jamie gasped, his Scottish thickening with his amazement.

"You married my grandfather?" said Susan, blinking at Rose.

"Wasn't expecting that," Ace said, looking stunned instead of hostile for the first time.

"He kissed me when he was married?!" Grace hissed to herself, unheard by everyone else.

"I didn't even know the Doctor _could _love," Liz said.

"Of course he can!" hissed Rose, Susan and Martha all at the same time.

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Clara in a hollow voice, making everybody turn to her. She was almost as white as Rose, staring hard at her knees. "The only wife I've ever heard of was River Song."

Rose barely smiled at the mention of River; the action was weak and behind it was clear sadness and pain. "The Doctor doesn't talk about people."

"Not even his wife?" Ace snapped, once again looking furious— thankfully this time it wasn't directed at Rose, but rather _for _Rose.

"I think it's a bit after your time, mate," said Rose, the tired tone in her voice matching her expression. At this point Martha just had to sling an arm over Rose's shoulders. "'Sides, it wasn't really the Doctor." She paused. "Well, it was, but it was a human-Time Lord biological metacrisis of him."

"What?" echoed everyone in the room except Martha and Susan.

"Essentially an identical copy of my grandfather," Susan supplied, with an awkward sideways glance at a very despondent-looking Rose, "but with a human body."

"It was still the Doctor," said Rose in an adamant voice, more to herself than anyone else.

"So basically the Doctor got cloned, feelings for you and all?" Clara said, a hint of _something _in her voice that made Rose snap her head up and stare at the woman, who stared right back.

Martha glared at Clara briefly before giving Rose's shoulders a squeeze and saying kindly, "What happened to your Doctor, Rose?"

Rose was silent for a full minute, glancing between each and every person in the room from Susan's still astonished gaze to Ace's impatient stare, before swallowing and saying, with a tone like she was determined to keep her voice steady, "He died."

"How?" Ace demanded.

Martha shot her a look, but Rose continued anyway. "In-in a zeppelin crash, along with my family. 'Bout two years after we were left in the parallel universe."

There was a very awkward silence that settled over the room like a heavy thundercloud, in which Susan looked like she was about to be sick and Martha tried desperately to figure out a way, any way, to comfort Rose, but could only settle for squeezing her shoulders. There was a crackling sound before Beratt's voice clanged through the room, his cheerful tone clashing with the mood.

"Well, that was _touching_," he said with delight, giggling, "but it's time to begin. Now, everybody get up." Nobody moved, glancing at each other uncertainly, up until Beratt said impatiently, "Up, now, up!" Using Martha's arm for leverage, Rose stood, encouraging the others to do the same as they all stared in the direction of the comm. "Good."

There was a loud whooshing noise that made everybody jump, as the metal walls suddenly separated and then sank into the floor with a clang, revealing a slightly larger area with eleven different doors, all marked with shiny black numbers. The group huddled in the very centre of the room like penguins, wary of the prospect of case anything coming through the doors.

"Now everybody, open the door according to which Doctor you travelled with," Beratt explained.

"You wish," scoffed Ace.

"I suggest you listen," said Beratt airily, apparently unperturbed.

"What're you gonna do, eh?"

"Well, I have the Doctor here with me," said Beratt with glee, "and if you don't listen I'll asphyxiate him with aerosolised aspirin."

Rose didn't even hesitate before obediently moving to the door marked '9', while Susan followed her lead and detoured to the door with the '1' on it. Everybody else blinked, looking confused, and Beratt sighed over the intercom before directing everybody to his or her respective doors with exasperation. Once everybody was properly in place, Grace trembling in her doorway, there was another loud noise as all of the doors slid open. As everyone spared each other one last glance, they each stepped into their own corridor, Beratt's wily voice grinning through the comm., "Let the games begin!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks go to MirrorFlower and Darkwind, alias093001, xXDark-Rose-MariaXx, BrightWatcher, Firedreamer12, Genesis Chi, Hediru, Kathryn Hart, Infinities Lover, Shadowdragon1317, PureCreativity, DeepBlue-sama, PhoenixAgent97, badwolf, Fanatic Whovian Writer, Countess Hargreaves, a Guest and the EpicGuest :3**** Super special thanks to all those who wished my mother luck; she is recovering well and is grateful for all the well-wishes! Thanks to alias093001 again for pointing out an error, which I've now corrected.  
><strong>

**PS: for the love of God, people, this is NOT a Maze Runner fic, this is NOT a Battle Royale fic (I don't even know what that is! ^^) and this is super-duper especially NOT A HUNGER GAMES FIC! This is a Rose-Tyler-won-the-contest-and-beat-River-Song-yay-let's-honour-her fic. **

**PPS sorry for blowing up :3 But it's really not a Hunger Games fic... yuck.**


	4. Abjection

**Beta: natural-blues**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Abjection

Once the Doctor's companions had finally started to sit up, Beratt, who had placed himself behind the Doctor's shoulder two minutes prior, giggled gleefully right in the Doctor's ear and pointed to a spot on the monitor, positively hopping in place.

"Look, Doctor, look!"

The Doctor resisted the urge to shut his eyes disobediently, since anything he did in defiance might spur Beratt to hurt his companions. His gaze travelled along Beratt's finger, which was positively shaking with excitement; another flood of strangled fear swept through his insides when he saw a bottle-blonde head with dark roots rising gingerly, with great aid from Martha Jones. His face blanched of colour, which somehow made Beratt even more excited, since he giggled again and gave the Doctor's shoulder a tight squeeze.

"Still not convinced, eh? Well, you're getting there, at least." Beratt pressed a button on the monitor, so that the two of them could hear the companions' conversations, and with an exaggerated movement he flipped the remote around, pressed another button on it and began to speak. "Wake up, everyone! My name is Beratt, lovely to meet you all. Well, I say meet, but only one of you will actually see me when this is all over." The Doctor tried very hard to suppress a sigh of exasperation and only succeeded mildly. "You'll be feeling groggy for a few more minutes but that should clear up soon. Might be a bit worse for you, _Rose Tyler,_ since I took you from across the Howling." The blonde's head snapped up at the mention of her name to stare at the camera, shock evident on her face.

And_ oh_ _God, _it was her.

It was really, really her, umber eyes wide and framed with lashes thick from several layers of mascara, lips full and parted as she prepared to respond. His insides clenched with anticipation at hearing her voice, even if it was through a crackling, grainy speaker, but Beratt, who was practically clutching onto the Doctor's shoulder for dear life, interrupted with some more monologue about his plans for them. Everything felt surreal— it was like having an out of body experience, no longer able to feel the aching in his lower back from the stiff backrest, or the cool metal of the deadlock shackles chafing the circumference of his wrists. He barely registered the end of Beratt's speech, punctuated eventually by Ace's loud screeching about blowing something up, as per the norm with her. As the companions started to speak inwardly, Beratt pulled the remote/microphone thing away from his mouth and positively squealed like a child with a new toy.

"Ooh, you believe me now!" The Omicronian did a little jig in place that, had the Doctor not been semi-catatonic, he would have laughed at. "How wonderful! Thank Nysondre— I did try very hard to get her specially for you, you know!"

"How?" The Doctor's very soft, very apathetic voice echoed through the room, startling himself— he hadn't even realised he'd spoken.

"Hm?" Beratt hummed, glancing at the Doctor's still ghostly expression. "Ooh, you mean how did I manage to get her?" He grinned smugly, tugging at the sleeves of his tunic as he began to prattle happily. "Bit brilliant, if I do say so myself. You see, I scrounged for certain metals and built a ship that could survive a journey through the Howling — took a good long year, you know — and then I stole a Vortex Manipulator from a Time Agent so that I could go back in time and steal some DNA from Miss Tyler there." He tapped the monitor with his knuckle. "Then I scoured the universe for a crack in space and time so I could enter the Howling, planted a beacon in this universe so I could find my way back — would be a bit silly to get lost, don't you think? — then I used her DNA to track her down and then I grabbed her when she was on the frontlines." The final word of Beratt's sentence brought the Doctor vaguely back to reality, and he frowned and was about to comment when Beratt remarked, "Ooh, listen to this!"

Beratt raised the volume on the monitor, allowing Rose's voice to permeate the room with an earnest, half-finished sentence, "— who took us, and then maybe we can make a plan to get out of here. All right— we know the bloke's name is Beratt and that he took us 'cos we're all affiliated with… the Doctor." Her painful-looking pause before she positively forced herself to say his name was like a knife to his hearts. "Does the name 'Beratt' sound familiar to anyone?"

"Oh, she's clever," said Beratt with delight, nodding in approval at the monitor as the other companions shook their heads in response. "I definitely see why you chose her."

His comment sparked irritation in the Doctor again, and he wished for a brief moment that he could go back into whatever hypnotic state he'd gone into earlier, but Rose continued to assume the role of the leader — which invoked a reluctant stab of pride in his chest — and try to sort everything out with the other companions, so he concentrated on her instead. He watched her go back and forth with his other companions, tolerate Ace's snapping with great patience (he felt the briefest flicker of painful amusement when he remembered the old Rose Tyler, who had never been particularly patient) speak kindly to a nervous Peri Brown and briefly cheer on Martha when she admitted her marital status. Her smile made his heart clench and he momentarily wished it was the tongue-touched one that used to drive him mad, although he'd deny it if anyone asked. He watched her face blossom into sweet nostalgia when she discovered a young Sarah Jane Smith, then crash into seriousness when she began theorising about temporal paradoxes, and then mirror the room's astonishment when Susan revealed herself to be his granddaughter.

His stomach already felt tight and painful, but when the companions began to interrogate a now nervous-looking Rose and she announced that she'd married the metacrisis copy of him, the feeling worsened. When she adamantly defended him for having feelings, tightness in his chest joined the other sensations. When she admitted in a determinedly steady tone that he and her family had died in a zeppelin crash, his stomach churned. With a hasty movement impaired horribly by the Doctor's shackles, he ducked to the side and vomited over the edge of the chair.

The Doctor barely heard Beratt's disgusted exclamation as he leaned his sweaty forehead on the cool metal armrest as best he could, trying to fight off the urge to be sick again. Throwing up was one of the things Time Lords rarely had to worry about, but this new discovery made him pale, shuddering and feverish. It'd been over a century since he'd last seen her, and he'd been relatively able to let go of her with the knowledge that she was happy and growing old with the human version of himself— now he knew he'd been content with his life while Rose had lost him _and _her family and was forced to live by herself for at least three years, at most ten, and that abhorred him.

His initial disgust having worn off, Beratt made a tutting noise and patted the Doctor's shoulder compassionately. "I know, it's terrible, isn't it?" Beratt said, as the Doctor spit out the foul taste of bile and tried to labour his breathing so he didn't get sick again. Beratt's crazed, delighted tone clashed horribly with his gestures. "I'm sure you think it's your fault that she lost _everything she ever had—_" The Doctor's upper lip curled in a snarl at the obvious emphasis in a possible attempt to provoke him, "— but she _did_ say it was a zeppelin crash, so it was just an unfortunate accident, really." With an exaggerated motion, Beratt whipped the remote back to his mouth and said, with a happy giggle, "Well, that was _touching_, but it's time to begin."

The Doctor, although his forehead was still pressed awkwardly into the armrest, watched the monitor from his peripheral vision as Beratt directed his companions to rise and head to their respective doors. Ace refused, Beratt threatened to suffocate him with aspirin, and Rose immediately obeyed without a second's hesitation.

The Doctor's stomach flipped again, but this time for a different reason.

* * *

><p>Rose's door shut with a loud slam behind her, making her nearly jump out of her boots and causing the corridor to be blanketed with complete darkness. Instinctive fear made her heart pound, and she automatically reached for the gun from her hip holster, only to curse Beratt to hell when she realised he'd taken it. Thankfully the corridor soon lit up with bright lights lining the ceiling, causing Rose to wince as it made her headache flare up again.<p>

Forcing back her own discomfort, she blinked away any blurriness that may remain and scanned her surroundings with care. The corridor she was in didn't have any doors save for the entrance and seemed to stretch on continuously for a long while before making a sharp turn to the right, and it was about two metres wide and four metres tall. The walls seemed to be made of the same reinforced steel as the room she'd woken up in, and there were two visible speakers and cameras pinned on the wall with several metres in between.

"Now then, everyone," Beratt's voice came from the speaker. "Here are the regulations. Rule number one: participation is mandatory, or you'll be eliminated." Rose rolled her eyes and glared in the direction of the camera. "Rule number two: while there's no particular time limit, you can't run the course slow as a snail." The way he said it was almost fond. "There is no finish line, since this isn't a race— you'll all be set against a series of obstacles. If you fail even one, you'll be eliminated. Any questions?" Before anyone could answer, he said happily, "Good, good. Now, off you trot!"

Rose scowled and opened her mouth to shout, but jumped when she heard a terrified wail through the wall to her right. "Hello?" she called.

"Rose?" Martha's voice came from her left, making her positively deflate with relief.

"Martha," Rose breathed. "This is brilliant— seems we can hear each other through the walls." Raising her voice, she called, "Whoever can hear me, respond!"

"I can hear you!" said Susan's voice loudly.

"Me too," said Sarah Jane, her voice a bit fainter.

"I can too," Clara called.

"Well this is good," Rose sighed. "At least we can hear each other. Pass it on to everyone else you can hear, so that nobody's left on their own." After everybody had complied and all companions were accounted for, another sob was barely heard from her right, making Rose frown and call out, "Who's that crying?" Nobody answered save from another suppressed sniffle. "What's the matter? Peri, is that you? Grace?"

The second her name was said, Grace's terrified shriek bounced through Rose's corridor, making her headache sear yet again. "_I don't want to be here! Let me out!_"

Pressing her fingers to her temple again, Rose called back with urgency, "Grace, it's all right, calm down—"

"_I don't even really know the Doctor— we only met for a few hours_!" Grace continued to wail, ignoring Rose completely. A banging sound started up, flesh slapping metal as Grace undoubtedly pounded her fists against the walls. "_Please, let me go, I have to get out of here, I_—_"_

"Now, now, Miss Holloway," tutted Beratt's crackling voice through the intercom. It wasn't being broadcasted through every comm., most likely just through Grace's, but it was loud enough so that Rose and most likely a few other companions could hear it through the walls. "You were chosen specially for this game— you ought to be grateful."

"Please," sobbed Grace. "Just let me go, _please_."

"Don't be silly. Now be silent and run the course like everyone else."

"_I won't_!" Grace shrieked, giving the walls another pound with her fists.

"Get up at once, Miss Holloway," Beratt sighed, sounding exasperated. "Don't be a child."

"I'm not moving!"

There was a pause, in which Rose fidgeted nervously, not liking the hush. Then, with another heavy sigh, Beratt said, "Very well then, Miss Holloway. I hereby declare you as disqualified from the running."

Rose's stomach swooped with horror at Beratt's words, but what really made her blanch a pale white was the loud clanging noise, followed by silence. "Grace?" Rose croaked, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat and called out louder, "Grace?"

"Are you all right?" Martha added a bit more quietly, since she was closer.

"Grace, are you there?!" Rose shouted, heart pounding against her ribcage.

The comm. beside the camera crackled and Beratt's voice chimed into the conversation. This time he was broadcasting on all speakers again, making his voice echo oddly. "I'm afraid Miss Holloway isn't going to answer. She's been disqualified and is no longer in the running." He paused, whether to let his words sink in or to assess all of their colourless faces, none of them knew. "There are now ten people left in the games. Have fun!"

His voice vanished, and another eerie silence set over the companions. Martha broke it by saying, in a trembling voice, "Rose? What d'you think he meant by 'disqualified'?"

Rose stared hollowly at the camera, as though she were gazing with horror straight into Beratt's face. "I-I think it means he's killed her."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Doctor's POV of last chapter was a blast to write. Y'know, for various reasons :p ahem. Thanks go to XXSilverDoeXX, alias093001, The Bad Wolf Girl, xXDark-Rose-MariaXx, Firedreamer12, appleheaven25, BrightWatcher, Infinities Lover, shadowneko003, bananas-are-good-9, Genesis Chi, IWantColoredRain, Countess Hargreaves, Shadowdragon1317, Porrima, Winter in Wonderland, Kathryn Hart, hotsasukefan, Miral-Romanov, DeepBlue-sama, SolemlySwearToManageMischief, MirrorFlower and Darkwind, PhoenixAgent97, a guest, an EpicGuest and a RandomReviewer :) **

**Super special thanks to allegoricalrose on tumblr, who rec'd my fics on like, three of her rec lists, and then showed me a lovely message from a Nonny that had me flailing in my seat :3  
><strong>


	5. Perception

**Beta: MusicKeeper**

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

Perception

"_Rose? What d'you think he means by 'disqualified'?"_

"_I-I think it means he's killed her."_

"Ooh, she's clever!" Beratt squealed yet again, hopping around like a little schoolgirl and leaving unnoticed the Doctor's pale, ghostly and once again sickly expression. "Absolutely brilliant— how wonderful that she caught on so quickly! I praise you for falling in love with her." Beratt glanced at him, smile turning into a perturbed expression when he finally took in the Doctor. "Oh dear, you're not going to throw up again, are you?"

"HOW DARE YOU?!" the Doctor shouted, the noise so loud and sudden it made Beratt actually jump.

He frowned. "How dare I what? Ask you if you were going to thr—?"

"NO, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!" As Beratt stuck out his chin in a scowl at the insult, the Doctor flailed against his restraints again, continuing to yell. "I SWEAR TO RASSILON, IF YOU'VE KILLED GRACE I'LL MURDER YOU!"

"Oh, but I wholeheartedly admit I've killed off Miss Holloway," Beratt said with airy confusion, blinking. "And I'm going to kill off all the other losers in the running." As the Doctor's face paled again despite his progressing rage, Beratt smiled good-naturedly again and added, "Oh, but of course the winner will be kept safe. You have my utmost promise that the last person standing will be brought to you, and both of you will be sent on your merry way to traipse through the universe 'til kingdom come."

As he emphasised himself with a tiny hop, the Doctor snarled, with only a slight crack in his voice, "And how exactly are you going to determine the… _losers_?"

"Oh, you'll see," Beratt grinned, and when he directed his attention back to the monitor, the Doctor was pretty certain that was all he was going to get for now.

* * *

><p>The corridors were deathly silent after Rose had finished speaking, an eerie ambient noise hanging like a heavy blanket over all of them. The silence, solitude and her own realisation made gooseflesh erupt over her neck and arms and her heartbeat speed up.<p>

"So that's how one of us is gonna 'win'," Martha said, her voice sounding as hollow as Rose felt.

"He's gonna pick us off one by one."

Anger started bubbling up in her chest like a volcano, making her clench her fists and shake with the effort of tamping down her desire to punch a hole through the wall— the universe really was a bitch, dumping the last six years of hell on her head and then dragging her back to her universe only to be taken hostage by a psychopathic alien and plopped into an obstacle course of doom.

And, for the first time in just over half a decade, Rose worried for the Doctor's safety as well— if Beratt had taken her from all the way across the Void, there was no doubt he'd gotten to the Doctor as well.

Rose clenched her eyes shut, counting down from ten so she didn't do something stupid like punch the camera, before saying, in a voice that only wavered once, "Okay, let's start walkin', then. Keep talkin', tell me if you see anythin'— an' tell the others to do the same thing."

"Right," Martha replied, before passing on the message to the others within earshot.

Rose scanned as far down the corridor as she could with her eyes, looking cautiously for anything even remotely out of place before taking a few careful steps forward, walking stealthily with one foot directly in front of the other. Nervousness clogged in her throat, but she kept her eyes locked ahead of her, slightly mollified by the sounds of Martha's vigilant footsteps over the ominous ambient noise.

The briefest flash of silver on the ground made her pause in her steps and call out urgently, "Martha."

Martha's footsteps paused. "Did you see something?"

"I dunno." Rose carefully stepped forward, prompting another swift flash across the floor like a miniscule shooting star. She leaned forward to better examine it, only to spot a needle-thin tripwire that was the same steel-grey colour as the floors. "It's a tripwire."

"That's creative," muttered Martha sarcastically.

"Nobody said he was smart, just bonkers," Rose supplied, reaching down and slipping her fingers around the wire in an effort to follow it, only to gasp out in pain and tear her hand away when the wire slipped gently over her fingertips and sliced open her skin.

"Rose?" Martha called worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Rose said, sticking her injured fingers into her mouth with an annoyed look in the wire's direction. "Just cut myself on the wire." Her gaze narrowed as a theory occurred to her. "Seems like it's a little too thin to be just a tripwire— s'like Beratt wanted me to slice open my ankles too."

"Does the wire lead to anything?"

Since she couldn't follow it with her fingers, Rose instead struggled to accomplish the task with her eyes, only to have her mouth drop open in shock when she found two gigantic, equally sharp-looking axes, suspended by the same cord that made up the tripwire.

"Well that is _fantastic,_" Rose cursed, glaring in the direction of the camera and hoping to God that Beratt was watching her.

"What?"

"The tripwire's holdin' up two bloody pendulums," Rose announced darkly, hands on her hips. "If I'd tripped over it, it would've broken and the axes would've sliced me in half."

"Blimey," Martha said in a hollow voice. "He's definitely trying to kill us in as bloody a way as possible."

"Looks like," Rose muttered, before lifting her foot and bringing it down hard on the tripwire.

It snapped, thankfully not slicing through her boot like she'd feared, which brought down the axes with a loud whooshing noise where they embedded themselves into the wall. The resulting bang echoed through the corridor, and Martha's startled gasp sounded from beside her.

"It went through the wall!" she announced with shock in her voice.

"The walls are that thin?" An inquisitive look grew over Rose's face, and she stepped carefully by the now curled wire and grabbed onto the handle of one of the axes, tugging with purpose. "Maybe we can use one of these to break open an entrance to each other's corridors."

The corridors crackled with static from the speaker again, before Beratt's cheerful voice chirped, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Rose whirled her head around, looking in the direction of the camera, but before she could say anything Beratt added, "Oh, it's a brilliant idea — I myself didn't even think about that when I set this little course up, so praise to you — but it's still technically cheating, and I'd have to disqualify you." He said the last two words in a singsong voice, making Rose glare just as the speaker turned off.

"Well that's brilliant," Martha said shortly.

"S'just as well," Rose sighed, giving the axe one last tug before relenting. "This thing's never gonna come out of the wall— s'in too deep."

"Great." A small thumping noise sounded from Martha's end, like she had just slumped against the wall. "Wonder if anybody else has seen anything like this."

"We should probably check in," Rose said, before calling out as loudly as she could, "_Is everybody all right_?"

* * *

><p>Liz Shaw stood positively frozen in place, staring ahead of her with eyes wide as coins. The seemingly endless corridor was lit well enough, but since that mad alien had announced through the intercom that Grace Calloway — or something like that — had been disqualified, every minuscule shadow looked as though it were hiding something ominous. Her foot kept inching forward but instinct kept yelling at her to stay put, despite the fact that she knew full well if she didn't move, she'd most likely be the next person to be 'disqualified'. And, from the way the other companions had been muttering to each other in frightened tones, 'disqualified' didn't mean a time-out on the bench.<p>

Swallowing her fear and trying hard to school her expression into one of brave determination, Liz stepped forward, the heel of her shoe making an unnerving clacking sound. What little bravado she'd just conjured up vanished and she nearly jumped out of her own skin when a young girl's voice called out from beside her, "Hello?"

Pressing a thin hand to her sternum as though trying to prevent her stuttering heart from bursting out of her chest, Liz glanced around despite herself and called back, voice only cracking once, "Hello?"

"Who's that?"

"Liz Shaw." Liz wracked her brains for a name to put with the American accent, remembering only Grace something-or-other. "Who are you?"

"Peri Brown," the girl answered. "Um, I'm not sure if you heard but that Rose girl said for us to watch out for anything that looks suspicious." Suspicious. Liz laughed hollowly to herself, placing a hand over her mouth and trying to ignore the fact that she was shaking. "Uh, hello?"

"What?" Liz basically snapped.

"Is everything all right?"

"We were all kidnapped from different times by a certifiably mental alien and are all being forced to run a potentially booby-trapped relay race of death," Liz said shrilly, trying to keep her voice quiet and failing. "Everything is just _lovely_, thank you."

Peri was silent for a moment, and Liz immediately felt horrible for snapping at her. Before she could apologise, the young girl piped up, "We'll be all right. We just have to follow what Rose said and keep our eyes out for anything that looks like it might want to chop off our faces." Liz chuckled without mirth again. "And," Peri added, "we can pass the time by discussing how it's possible that she's married to _the Doctor_."

"That is a rather strange thing to grasp, isn't it?" Liz said, a smile reluctantly forming on her mouth. Her smile faded almost as quickly as it'd come, and she confessed to Peri in a quiet voice, "I'm a scientist, not a soldier— I barely even leave my lab. I think it's guaranteed I won't be making it to the finish line."

"Don't say that," Peri said earnestly. "I'm not a scientist _or _a soldier— I'm just a college student from California. Besides, who says we're not going to encounter some kind of obstacle that need a scientist's expertise?"

"Like what?" Liz snorted, imagining for one humorous moment a table full of chemicals she had to mix in the correct order to blow up the wall.

"I dunno— maybe you need to mix some chemicals and blow something up?"

Liz couldn't hold back a laugh, telling her, "That was precisely what came to my mind as well."

As Peri started to laugh as well, Liz shut her eyes, once again trying to gather up some courage. To hell with being a mere scientist— she was a companion to the Doctor, damn it, and she had gone on many adventures with him and saved the world countless times. Although, she couldn't help but muse, she'd rarely left the safety of her lab at UNIT during those times.

"All right," Liz said with determination. "We've got to start moving, lest we end up like that Calloway girl."

"I think her name was Holloway," Peri remarked, but her footsteps told Liz she'd complied.

Liz took a few tentative steps forward herself, eyes locked in front of her just in case a booby trap was ahead. Nothing jumped out of nowhere as she'd expected, so her steps quickened, bravado taking over as she grew more confident.

Horror flooded her insides when she took a swift step forward and nearly collapsed when the floor beneath her right foot suddenly sank with a clicking sound. Her eyes darted to the ground, spotting a conspicuous, sunken tile the same grey colour as the rest of the corridor, before something darted out of the wall and jammed itself against her side.

Electricity zapped through her body at once, making pain crackle down her bones; her limbs seized up and her whole body jerked uncontrollably, and she was barely aware of Peri's voice shouting her name. White spots dotted her vision and a loud buzzing sound started in her ears, before the thing finally retracted back into the wall and she fell forward, her vision going black far before she hit the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the immensely late update :x I kind of tried to finish all of my other stories that I've been putting off before I continued this one. Anyway, I had mixed reviews for the last chapter; some of you thought Grace's character was spot on, and some of you thought she acted a bit too frightened (in my defence, nobody quite knows how they'll react in dangerous situations :p) New beta, as you can see :3 Round of applause for MusicKeeper; thanks go to MirrorFlower and Darkwind, alias093001, MargauxUniverse, Shadowdragon1317, Kathryn Hart, InfinitiesLover, shvartzit, Countess Hargreaves, Genesis Chi, DeepBlue-sama, craving-bravery, IWantColoredRain, DiosaLuna, Isha Dare, WittyRavenclawWriter, Mick-Ann, Krista, a Guest and an EpicGuest :)  
><strong>


	6. Abolition

**Beta: natural-blues**

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

Abolition

Liz's quickening footsteps were easy to hear through the corridor walls thanks to the clicking of her heels, so when they suddenly stopped Peri halted as well, concern welling in her chest.

"Liz?" Instead of an answer she heard a quiet, gut-wrenching grunting sound, like Liz was being jerked around by something, and a near-silent buzzing to boot. Terror washed through her, making her breathing ragged and causing tears to prick at the corners of her eyes as she covered her mouth with shaking hands. "_Liz_?!"

The sounds ended with a loud thud, like Liz had just collapsed, and Peri bit back a sob of fear as Rose's voice just barely reached her corridor.

"_Is everybody all right_?"

A flurry of uncertain affirmatives echoed through the corridors, and Peri shouted back in reply, "I-I don't think so!"

She faintly heard Rose's confused, "What did she say?" prompting Sarah Jane, who was in the neighbouring corridor, to pass on the message. Rose added, calling loudly again, "_What's the matter_?"

"Liz has gone quiet!" Peri said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice and barely succeeding. "We were talking through the walls, and then her footsteps just stopped and she didn't answer!"

As Sarah Jane passed on Peri's words again, Clara's voice piped up with concern, "That's not good. What else did you hear?"

Peri opened her mouth to tell them about the disturbing noises, but the speaker crackled on again and Beratt's voice rang through each of their corridors, making them all nearly jump out of their shoes.

"We have another loser!" he said gleefully, and there wasn't a single companion listening who didn't feel their heart drop into their stomach at his words. "Miss Liz Shaw has just met a very… ah, _electric _ending—" Peri pressed her hands to her mouth harder with a choking noise, trying desperately not to throw up when she realised just what those grunting noises had been, "— and is the second out of the running. There are nine of you left— I wish you all luck!"

Rose loud exclamation of, "_Fuck_," reached nearly every companion's ears— including Beratt's, since he gasped like an affronted old lady and chided, "Language, Miss Tyler." As Rose glared hard at the camera, Beratt added with his earlier cheer, "Now, while you have all been very productive by speaking through the walls — very intelligent, good on all of you — some of the corridors will be splitting in different directions, so you may not be able to hear people."

The speaker shut off with a clicking sound, and Rose kicked the wall angrily, swearing one more time just to piss Beratt off some more.

"That's another one of us gone, then," Clara remarked, voice wavering a bit.

"And now we won't be able to hear each other," Susan reminded them from a corridor near Rose's, sounding frightened.

"That's a bonus," Rose muttered.

"It's literally been five minutes since Grace was—" Martha paused for a moment, struggling to find the right word, "— disqualified."

"At this rate we'll all be dead by the end of the hour," Rose mused with concern.

"All but one," Clara reminded them darkly.

"Maybe we should just stay behind," Sarah Jane suggested.

"And end up like Grace did?" Susan said.

"We could all stay behind," Sarah Jane said earnestly. "He can't kill all of us off, not if we all refuse to play his game."

"Actually I wouldn't put it past him." Rose shook her head, despite there being nobody to see her. "We're in a no-win situation. If we stay behind, he'll definitely kill us, and if we don't we'll all get picked off one by one by his bloody traps. We'll just have to press on, keep talkin' to each other as long as we can and be careful not to set anythin' off. S'not like this course can be too long— not if he's tryin' to kill us off so quickly."

Everybody muttered their agreement, even Sarah Jane, although hers was still uncertain. Rose clenched her fists and aimed another glare in the direction of the camera, before resuming her walk. She hadn't seen anything since the two pendulums held up by the tripwire, but it wasn't for lack of trying— her eyes were burning with the effort of keeping them open and looking alertly for anything decidedly booby trap-like, like she was in a staring contest with a Weeping Angel.

"Fuck!" Rose heard Martha cry out, making her freeze in her steps.

"Martha?" she called out in alarm, listening for anything significant.

"'M all right," Martha grunted, her reply followed by a few thumping noises. "Bloody alien git put another tripwire. He's not very imaginative."

Rose snorted, remarking, "Not smart, just bonkers, remember?"

As Martha echoed her snort, Rose relaxed her stance for the briefest of moments and took another step forward, only to tense up again when the tile beneath her feet sank into the ground with a whoosh. Rose threw herself backward and onto her bum at once, just in time to dodge a particularly nasty-looking alien taser that looked determined to dig itself into her stomach. With a swift movement and another curse at Beratt, Rose picked herself up off the ground and kicked the taser out of its socket, where it flew forward into the corner, still sparking slightly but otherwise harmless.

"Rose?" Martha said with concern.

"'M fine too," Rose assured her, striding forward and picking up the now motionless taser with a scowl. "Bet this is the thing he used on Liz Shaw."

"What is it?"

"Some kind of alien taser." Rose rolled her eyes, tossing it behind her shoulder.

"Really doesn't have a lot of ideas, does he?"

"At least this means he's predictable," Rose said. "Pass it on to the others, so they at least know what to look out for."

Martha complied, and as the repeated message grew fainter as it passed from companion to companion, Rose sent one last glance full of promise and determination in the direction of the camera before continuing on with her head held high.

* * *

><p>The Doctor watched, eyes glazed and mouth agape as his pink-and-yellow girl expertly dodged the taser in a whirlwind of black, before picking herself up off the ground and honest-to-goodness <em>kicking <em>the thing off its handle. Beratt giggled hysterically as he watched, hopping up and down and pointing insistently at Rose's figure on the screen.

"_Did you see that_?!" he said gleefully, actually spinning in place for a moment like a ballerina. "I just _knew _she'd make this fun!" He exhaled loudly with satisfaction, clapping the Doctor on the shoulder and beaming down at him. "Was she always so able?" The Doctor didn't answer, eyes still locked on Rose's form as she and Martha swiftly insulted Beratt (which remained unnoticed by said Omicronian). Beratt then proceeded to poke the Doctor in the shoulder, much to his annoyance. "Hello?"

"What?" he snapped, steadfastly keeping his gaze forward.

"I _said_," Beratt huffed, sticking out his jaw in irritation, "when you first met her, was she this impressive?"

"I—"

He swallowed hard, mind flickering back against his will to the day he'd grabbed the hand of a nervous shop girl with too much mascara and told her to run. He desperately tried to lock away the memory, like this self and his last self had both been so good at doing, but it stubbornly lodged herself in the forefront of his mind, remembering the day she told him something he hadn't known he'd needed to hear back then.

"_There's me._"

Beratt glanced at him, his expression turning to delighted inquiry as he took in the Doctor. "You…? Speak up, Doctor."

"No." He exhaled, a long and decidedly sad noise. "No, she— no."

"Oh?" Beratt circled around the Doctor's chair like a vulture, his fingers steepled and his eyebrows raised. "Then what was she like? Talented but closeted? Abhorrent towards violence, perhaps?"

"No," he answered, voice hardening.

"Ah, just unusually intelligent, then?"

"No," he repeated, starting to glare but still refusing to move his gaze.

Beratt scowled, pausing in his steps and clearly growing increasingly frustrated. "Fine then, what is it? The fact that she makes a good breakfast or the wonderful, amazing way she holds a _spanner?_"

"_No_," snapped the Doctor, stiffening in his seat.

"Then what in the name of Nysondre made you choose her? If she wasn't special in the slightest then why did you pick her, out of everyone, to be your companion— after the War, no less?"

"Shut up," the Doctor snarled, fists clenched tight.

"I will not," Beratt said indignantly. "What was she then, just another faceless nobody that you shut your eyes and pointed at and _that's _how you chose her?"

"_Shut up_!" he shouted, spit flying from his mouth and his arms struggling against his bindings again in an effort to strangle the alien that was _insulting _his Rose. "You know _nothing _about Rose!"

Beratt actually tossed back his head and let out a loud laugh that sounded more like a disturbing cackle, his armour shaking. "My dear Doctor, I've spent the last several years gathering information and the means to fetch her from across the Howling."

"That means _nothing_."

Beratt barked out another laugh, this one sounding slightly condescending. "On the contrary— I daresay it means I know more about her than you do!"

The Doctor's anger subsided to make way for suspicion and confusion. "Like what?"

But Beratt merely smirked at him, his self-righteous I-know-something-you-don't expression making the Doctor's earlier desire to crush the alien's windpipe with his hands return with a flare. As the alien turned his back on him with an airy, "Excuse me," and exited the room, the Doctor was left alone, his unanswered question hanging over the room like a fog. He watched Beratt leave the room, the door shutting behind him with a loud slam that reverberated through the large, relatively empty room.

When his eyes finally drifted back to the monitor, he was startled to find Rose's gaze boring straight into his, umber eyes narrowed and blazing with fortitude. He exhaled on one long, shuddering breath, the promise in her expression searing through his hearts and making them swell with _hope_, of all things.

And, if he tried really hard, he could imagine that she could see him, and was promising him that she would stay safe, no matter what, and return to him.

* * *

><p>A loud curse bounced off the walls of Jamie's corridor, his accent thickening with frustration as the Highlander fell down onto his arse, smacking his head hard against the steel wall. The last hour or so had been entertaining, to put it mildly— besides the alien's continued transmissions, and despite the fact that he'd stated some companions were able to speak through the walls, Jamie had heard nothing but faint, indistinguishable hollers from the others. When he'd attempted to shout back, hoping they'd be able to hear him, he'd received no answer whatsoever.<p>

He'd been completely alone since he'd first stepped into the corridor and the doors had slammed shut behind him.

That hadn't stopped him in the slightest, of course— especially considering he hadn't been able to take more than a few steps before something tried to wallop him over the head or shove him into a fire pit. Admittedly, when he realised he was alone in this — and when Beratt announced that others had been communicating with each other — he was initially nervous and a little bit irked, since that wasn't fair at all, but so far he was alive and, while it was a horrid thing to think, that was more than what could be said for two other companions.

Picking himself off the floor with another annoyed mutter of, "Stupid effin' bag of stinkin' _shite_…" Jamie dusted off the backside of his kilt and pressed on, counting the steps in between booby traps like he'd been doing for the past hour. His maximum so far had been thirteen.

Jamie reached a total of nine steps before he was forced to slam himself to the ground and roll at the perfect time to avoid being sliced in half by a swinging pendulum, and as he grimaced into the floor when he felt the blade tear open the fabric of his turtleneck he honestly wondered if anybody else was experiencing this flurry of traps or if the bloody alien just had a grudge against him. Well, it wasn't going to be _that _easy to knock him out of the running.

He scrambled up off the floor for the umpteenth time, wincing at the pain in his knees from being scuffed one too many times before restarting his counting.

One… two… three…

Jamie paused in his steps the moment he heard a near-silent rumbling noise, heart thudding with alertness and adrenaline yet again. His mind instinctively tried to put images to the noise, but the only things he could think of were angry animals and giant stone blocks being pushed against the floor, although that last one seemed rather unlikely.

He took another tentative step forward, steadily sweeping the corridor for anything that could be the source of the noise and finding nothing, prompting another few steps. His pace stuttered at once when he finally spotted a glowing pair of shockingly scarlet eyes within the dimmest of shadows, and he went completely rigid when he finally realised those eyes belonged to some type of alien dog; its coat was a violently dark indigo, almost black, and there were slits on the sides of its neck like gills.

And, he was simultaneously shocked and disgusted to discover, a greyish-green foam was spilling from its bared jaws and dripping onto the steel floor. Brilliant— an alien dog with alien rabies.

Jamie's hand twitched instinctively to fetch his thick-hilted knife from the pocket of his kilt, making the dog twitch as well and causing its snarling to raise in volume for a moment, but he froze again and silently cursed when he remembered Beratt had stripped him of his weapons. He cursed again, upper lip curling over his teeth in frustration. Well then, he'd just have to do what he'd been forced to do a few times during the Battle of Culloden— run into it with nothing but the clothes on his back.

His stance lowered aggressively, keeping his eyes locked on the dog. "All right then, ya howlin' bampot," Jamie muttered, before hurling himself towards the dog with a loud scream of, "_CREAG AN TUIRE_!"

The dog bolted towards him at his shout, leaping on top of him gracefully and, to Jamie's surprise, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground with more strength than Jamie had anticipated. His head slammed back against the steel of the floor, and before he could recover from the shock, the dog's snarling jaws locked around his neck, canines sinking into his throat.

Jamie screamed.

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><p><strong>AN: Yes, it's Jamie :'( Let's all have a moment of silence for James Robert McCrimmon, the cutest cutie pie to ever run about time and space in a kilt. Now be honest; how many of you gasped or wailed out 'nooo' when you read Jamie's name up there? :p And for those of you who wanted to know if somebody was going to die every chapter... pretty much, yeah. Anyway... thanks to alias093001, Infinities Lover, Kathryn Hart, shvartzit, crossovermania, hawkerin (welcome to ff! :D), MirrorFlower and DarkWind, DeepBlue-sama, Quirkynerdgamer, IWantColoredRain, TheEvilAshleyness, PhoenixAgent97, Miral-Romanov, Diving In and an Epic Guest. About to cross 100 reviews soon (wow) you guys rock! Creag an tuire!  
><strong>


	7. Detonation

**Beta: Miral-Romanov**

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

Detonation

Forty minutes before Jamie McCrimmon was potentially torn to shreds four corridors down, Sarah Jane was stumbling down her own corridor in — to her annoyance — her only pair of two-inch, designer heels. As her ankle twisted for what had to be the bazillionth time, nearly sending her flying into the wall, she sank her teeth down into her lower lip to keep her from shrieking out a curse, tears stinging her eyes. It was just her effing luck— after she'd discovered the Doctor had dropped her off in the wrong _country, _let alone the wrong city, she'd had to scrounge together what little money she had in the bottom of her trunk to buy a train ticket back into England, and ended up having to change her clothing in the station's loo. She'd also ended up stepping in a murky puddle outside the station, which had forced her to change from her colourful converse into her only other pair of shoes— in hindsight she truly regretted not keeping her sullied but _stable _shoes.

She cried out for the first time when her ankle twisted again, finally snapping the heel on her right shoe and nearly sent her flying towards an honest-to-goodness _flamethrower. _A pair of footsteps she hadn't even known were there stopped in the background, and what she recognised as Clara Oswald's voice called out, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," choked out Sarah Jane, even though that was far from the truth. Leaning against the wall for leverage (and eyeing the flamethrower warily) she leaned down with one hand and picked up the broken piece of her heel. "Heel broke."

"You're wearing heels?" Clara exclaimed in astonishment.

Sarah Jane laughed shrilly and mirthlessly before positively shrieking, "Well it's not like I _expected _to be kidnapped and forced to run an obstacle course!"

Clara was quiet for a moment, before saying meekly, "Sorry."

Sarah Jane's lower lip trembled with guilt, and to vent her frustration she hurled the broken heel towards the flamethrower, which fired up at once at the object's proximity and incinerated it on the spot. "No, I'm sorry," she said, kicking both of her shoes off so she could stand properly. "We're both in the same predicament, after all."

"'Cept I'm not wearing heels," Clara supplied, and Sarah Jane chuckled weakly.

"I just…" Sarah Jane gave her shoes one last regretful glance before festering on barefoot, ducking for a moment to avoid the wrath of the flamethrower. "He leaves me behind to go home, and he tells me not to forget him and I see a room full of future assistants to the Doctor. It just makes me think…"

"What?" Clara egged, when she trailed off.

"That he's not coming back."

The words whooshed out of her on a single breath, making the idea seem too real.

"What makes you think that?" said Clara gently.

Sarah Jane snorted. "I noticed everyone's looks. Rose reacted strangely when I told her he'd dropped me off in Aberdeen, and that Martha lady didn't look too ignorant about it either. And I wouldn't put it past him," she added, voice bitter.

"I could never imagine the Doctor leaving me— or any of us," Clara said, before chuckling to herself. "Even after he regenerated into a crotchety old grump, he still cares about me. Plus we all know he's a terrible driver—" They both shared a laugh over that, "— so that's probably why he landed you in Scotland instead."

Sarah Jane shrugged, even though she knew full well Clara couldn't see it. "Still… why else would Rose suddenly look like she's seen the Ghost of Christmas Past?"

Clara snorted at the quip, and now it was her turn for her voice to turn bitter. "_Mrs. Doctor_ seems like she's seen more ghosts than a gravedigger. I wouldn't take it to heart."

Sarah Jane frowned, glancing at the wall that Clara was behind. "Are you in love with him?"

A huffed sigh was heard, more forlorn that frustrated. "No. I mean, not anymore. I was, though."

"What changed?"

"_He_ did," Clara scoffed. "Before he regenerated he was sweet, and childish. And younger," she admitted, and Sarah Jane giggled. "When he changed the first thing he told me was that he wasn't my boyfriend, and never would be." Her tone was grudging again, muttering to herself, "Never said I thought he was."

"Then why don't you seem to like that Rose Tyler woman?" Sarah Jane asked. "She seems nice enough."

"I know, I just…" As her voice trailed off for the briefest moment, Sarah Jane had the feeling like Clara was about to go into full-on rant mode, which was confirmed when she continued, "I met River Song once, and that was hard enough. But he actually made a something-crisis human _clone _of himself and moved to _another universe _so that he could be with her. What exactly makes her so special that he'd make himself _human _just to be with her?"

"I dunno," Sarah Jane replied lamely, because she had a feeling that was the kind of answer Clara was looking for.

"And what makes it worse is that he even told her about having a granddaughter!" Clara huffed, and Sarah Jane pictured her with her arms crossed in a corridor identical to hers. "Never said _anything _to me about it, but he'll tell _her_."

"I'm getting the feeling this is less about Rose and more about something else," Sarah Jane supplied.

Clara was silent for the briefest of moments. "I met somebody."

Sarah Jane frowned, confused at the change of topic. "Who?"

"An ex-military sergeant turned maths teacher at my school. His name's Danny." She paused again, and when she did speak again her voice sounded nervous. "Was a bit awkward at first, but now we're properly together. I've been thinking about… leaving the Doctor to stay with him."

Sarah Jane let out a loud, continuous 'ohh', Clara's heated rant finally making sense. "And you think being angry with him will make it easier to leave without feeling guilty."

"Maybe," Clara admitted in a tiny voice. "Since he's changed, I've really been wondering if I should be around him."

"Why?"

"He's… been so _merciless_. Frightened me half to death sometimes."

"He can be a little scary on occasion," Sarah Jane admitted, pausing for a moment to inch past a carefully placed tile of needles that would have pierced through her shoes, had she been wearing any. Perfect bloody timing. "Anyone as smart and powerful as him would be. Just give it a bit of time and see if you still want to leave."

"If I even get out of this alive," Clara reminded her darkly.

Sarah Jane cringed when she realised she'd almost forgotten their dire predicament during their almost normal conversation. "True." After turning a sharp corner, she halted in her tracks with a loud gasp at the sight of an honest-to-goodness _maze of knives_, the hilts having been soldered to the wall in varying lengths, starting from the height of her neck down to the floor. It would be a definite miracle if she didn't come out as grated cheese on the other side. "Oh, you must be _joking_."

"What?" Clara said worriedly.

Sarah Jane directed her glaring gaze towards yet another one of the cameras lining the wall, this one placed directly beside where the knife maze began. "Oh, nothing, really."

Bracing herself against the possibility of the knives not staying put and happily digging their way into her organs, Sarah Jane tossed one last regretful glance at her bare feet and began worming her way through the maze, sucking in her stomach and arching her back in an effort to become as thin as a toothpick. Both sleeves of her blouse and the hem of her skirt were shredded in seconds, and every time the fabric caught on the knives Sarah Jane's heart nearly leapt out of her throat. The maze wasn't long, thankfully, and after a few minutes that felt more like eons Sarah Jane could see a knife-less stretch of corridor from beyond the silver blades coming precariously close to her throat. Despite herself, she quickened her pace, wincing as she nicked her arm a couple of times in her haste. When she reached the last few flurry of daggers, she half-hurled herself towards open air, only to feel the burning slice of a blade digging from her ankle up her calf to the back of her knee. She shrieked out in pain, instinctively hurling herself away from the source of her injury and past the end of the maze.

Instead of the floor being there to catch her fall, her gaze was met with a hollowed-out pit full of metal spikes.

* * *

><p>As Martha was tentatively sidestepping a net, camouflaged to blend in with the colour of the floor, she nearly jumped out of her boots when she heard a woman's loud shriek of terror. Before she could open her mouth she heard Rose's voice — which, to her slight discomfort, sounded significantly farther away than it had been a few minutes ago — shout out, "<em>Is everyone all right<em>?" and Clara's voice wail out concurrently, "Sarah Jane?!"

There was a moment of tightly coiled anticipation, before Sarah Jane's weak voice called out, "I'm fine!" Martha let loose the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, up until Sarah Jane's terrified but relieved voice choked out, "Blimey, that was close…"

"What happened?" Martha asked.

She could have sworn Sarah Jane snorted. "Well, I was manoeuvring through a maze of knives—" Martha spared an annoyed look at the umpteenth camera, sarcastically praising Beratt in her mind for his imagination, "— and I got cut at the end of it, but when I tried to get out he'd put a pit full of spikes at the end—"

"_WHAT_?!" Rose, Martha and Clara all echoed at the same time.

"— but I managed to grab onto a bar on the wall," Sarah Jane finished, and again Martha exhaled with relief.

"Well at least he _sor' _of wants us to survive," Rose said faintly, and Martha snorted in agreement. "Are you hurt bad?"

A brief pause, before she said tentatively, "I'm not certain. I can walk, but it looks a bit deep."

Martha's mind briefly flickered through the many medical textbooks she'd devoured over the years, but when she opened her mouth to give Sarah Jane instructions on how to bandage her wound, Rose beat her to it, to her surprise.

"Tear off the longest bit of fabric you have an' bind your injury as tight as you can," she said as loudly as she could, apparently also aware that her corridor had, as Beratt had promised, started to curve away from everyone else's. "An' make sure it's clean," she added quickly, before saying sarcastically, "No use getting' an infection while you're fightin' for your life."

Sarah Jane let out a hollow chuckle as she complied, and Martha frowned at the wall, wondering what exactly Rose had been doing in the other universe. As she opened her mouth to ask, a loud male scream was heard, and a split second later, before anybody could react to the scream beyond chilly horror turning their insides to ice, a near-deafening explosion rocked the floors and knocked all of them onto their arses.

"What the hell was that?" Martha shrieked.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes earlier, Ace was storming down the corridor like a herd of rampaging elephants, a scowl on her face and steam practically pouring through her ears. As annoying as it was to be ripped away from her life and wake in a cramped room full of know-it-all blondes (who married the biggest know-it-all in the universe), she'd then discovered that the arsehat who'd kidnapped her had also <em>raided her pockets <em>and taken away all of her explosives.

When she got out of here, she was going to take them all back, stick one or seven in ear, blow up his head and use his brains for Christmas decorations.

She hadn't encountered any obstacles save for the occasional pathetic thing like a gigantic blade that had tried its very best to decapitate her where she stood, hadn't bothered answering any of the other companions little role-check calls and, when Captain Nutjob had announced that two people had already died, she hadn't exactly paused to weep for them. Some might call it heartless, but stopping to mourn for people Ace hadn't wanted to know even existed wasn't exactly going to get her out of there quicker. Besides, she _really _wanted to blow up his head— the sooner the better.

While Ace stomped down the corridor, boots making loud thudding noises with every step, she mentally took an inventory of what he'd stolen— two bound packages of Nitro-9 along with several boxes of matches from the pockets of her bomber jacket; some kind of alien dynamite with an extremely short fuse that she'd found on an asteroid bazaar, which had 'inadvertently' ended up in her trousers pocket; and a whole pack of regular dynamite.

Something occurred to her, making her pause in her tracks. She hadn't checked one place. Grinning to herself and tossing a quick glance at the camera, she turned her body out of view before reaching down into her boots, letting out a triumphant whoop when her fingers closed around a spare box of matches. Apparently Captain Nutjob had forgotten to check inside her shoes— which also meant, she mused with a grin as she plopped down onto her rear and took off both of her boots, he'd had no reason to check her soles either. Along with the alien explosives she's stolen, she'd also been ecstatic to discover a pair of boots that had soles large and thick enough to hollow out and hide one stick of dynamite per shoe, without it being uncomfortable as hell (like all her other attempts). The Professor hadn't been pleased when he'd initially found out, up until Ace had used one to break them out of a prison cell made of solid stone, so he'd let it slide in the end.

Pulling out both sticks of dynamite and yanking her boots back on, Ace scrambled off the floor with a smirk and immediately began searching for somewhere to stick it. Her initial thought was to put it in a crack in the wall so she could blow her way out of there, but as the walls were made of solid steel she was out of luck on that idea. Huffing out her slight annoyance and gripping the dynamite tighter for comfort, she glanced around some more only to have her eyes fall on the camera and speaker duo. Another smirk grew on her face, and she idly shoved the dynamite into her pocket for the time being before standing on tiptoe, wrapping her hands around the speaker and trying to yank it out of the wall.

To her surprise it gave way at once— and it was _heavy._ She stumbled back, slamming down onto the unforgiving floor and grunting out in pain when the speaker landed atop her and practically caved in her chest. Ace shoved it off with annoyance, massaging her chest and trying to catch her breath for a moment before sitting up with a wince and regarding the gigantic hole in the wall she'd created, full of severed, sparking wires. Grabbing the matchbox and the two sticks of dynamite out of her pocket, she idly lit them both and tossed them into the mess of wires.

Yet just as she prepared to dart down the corridor to safety, not noticing the faint scream of terror from somewhere in the background, to her astonishment it exploded within seconds, sending metal and wires whipping in all directions and tossing her backwards like a rag doll. She was allowed the briefest moment of thought, in which she vaguely realised she'd used the alien dynamite instead of the regular kind, before her head slammed hard against the opposite wall and she was unconscious at once.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry this is a bit late o: This is now the eleventh day in a row I've had a headache... sufficed to say I'm going in for a CT scan soon. Anyhoo, show of hands... who thought Sarah Jane was going to be the next to snuff it? :3 On a more sombre note, it was Ace :( Sorry... Thanks go to MirrorFlower and DarkWind, alias093001, hawkerin, craving-bravery, Firedreamer12, Infinities Lover, moviemaniac217, Nova, Showmesomestars, shvartzit, Hediru, Hummelberry94, Miral-Romanov, pbarker1, TardisBlueismynewfavoritecolor, DeepBlue-sama, crossovermania, Kathryn Hart, IWantColoredRain, a Guest (you'll see ;D) and an EpicGuest. We've crossed 100 reviews! (you guys rule!)  
><strong>


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